


The VanderMorgan Filth Files

by Lady_of_Rohan



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: BDSM, Cowboys & Cowgirls, Daddy Dutch, Daddy Kink, Desperation, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Play, Domestic Discipline, Frottage, Hotdogging, Kinky, M/M, Needy Arthur, Non-Penetrative Sex, Outdoor Sex, Porn, Punishment, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-19 06:40:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22806874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_of_Rohan/pseuds/Lady_of_Rohan
Summary: Just dirty things I've written, as suggested by tumblr to post here on Ao3!
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Dutch van der Linde
Comments: 17
Kudos: 100





	1. Night Fishing

**Author's Note:**

> Filth filth and more filth. Also I really like spanking, as if you couldn't already tell.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a kinky couple in Valentine, Dutch and Arthur slip away to do some 'fishing.' 
> 
> Original post from my tumblr!  
> https://lady-of-rohan.tumblr.com/post/188090879834/yeehaw-im-trying-something-new-kinktober-day

Original post date: 10/2/19  
  
When Arthur had been the accidental witness to a Valentine rancher’s raunchy exploits with his wife, he hadn’t imagined that he’d be trying it out for himself.

Dutch had gotten it out of him one night, when they were both full as ticks during a gang celebration. Arthur hadn’t _meant_ to let his voyeuristic venture slip… and Dutch had taken the bait.

It would be a lie to say that Dutch forcefully tugging him over his knee didn’t arouse him. Even more of a lie, if he hadn’t enjoyed the hell out of Dutch sliding his suspenders off his arms, and then yanking his pants down, baring his ass to the open breeze. 

They’d waited til the dead of night, wandering far enough outside of Horseshoe Overlook to be out of earshot, or to arouse suspicion. To the evening’s guards, John and Javier, they’d made an excuse about going out and doing some night-fishing.

Arthur supposed they’d be catching something so their story added up.

And so Dutch sat on a tree stump, knees bent as Arthur sprawled unceremoniously across his lap. Arthur wasn’t sure whether to gasp from pain, or moan the first time Dutch’s large palm connected with his bare ass. The crack of his hand was so loud that birds nesting in a nearby tree chirped away into the night sky, fearing danger.

Dutch wasted no time peppering each cheek with sound smacks. There was hardly even a moment to brace himself, legs kicking out of instinct and breaths coming out sharply. After a couple of minutes, Arthur would have wagered, Dutch’s hand stayed, resting on the warmth of a cheek and rubbing slightly. Almost soothingly…

“I can’t help but think this is what you’ve wanted all these years, Arthur,” Dutch said, voice low and sultry. “Someone to punish you for all the bad things we done?”

Arthur reckoned that his face, flushed with heat at Dutch’s teasing, matched the color of his backside.

“ _Shut up,_ Dutch,” he grumbled.

Shifting him easily upon his knee as his leg was raised, further bending Arthur into a neat arch, Dutch gave him a warning slap. Arthur hissed loudly.

“Don’t take that tone with me, boy. I have no issue tanning your hide and being sure you won’t sit for a week.”

Defiantly, Arthur laughed.

“Try me, then.”

“You’re going to regret this, son.”

“I sure hope so.”

Arthur smirked. Dutch chuckled.

Challenge accepted.

The force at which Dutch spanked him made Arthur gasp, the noise ringing out into the open air. It was sharp, and it _hurt_ , and was exhilarating all at once. The tips of Arthur’s boots dug into the soft earth as he squirmed and struggled, gripping at Dutch’s thigh with his short-cropped, dirt-encrusted nails.

His skin felt hotter with each loud smack, tingling with discomfort. Did it burn, or did it feel good? The fact that he’d gone fully hard against Dutch’s leg told him it was the latter. He found himself instinctively moving his hips, attempting friction against the material of Dutch’s pants.

Dutch didn’t scold him for that, and he heard a noise of approval somewhere deep in the other man’s throat. He wondered if he was turned on over this, too.

When Dutch paused again, rubbing the heat of his rear, he reached a hand over to pet the back of Arthur’s head.

“Is that to your satisfaction, Arthur?”

“Oh, I dunno,” Arthur breathed, “think you can do better.”

“Dear god,” Dutch gasped in amusement, voice lilting. “You really are a masochistic fool.” 

Dutch Van Der Linde would never have his pride take a hit, and so he hit Arthur one last time with a powerful whip of his hand that managed to strike both cheeks at once.

Between his thrusting against Dutch’s leg, and the mind-boggling pleasure-pain of being spanked, Arthur was hardly aware of the fact that he’d blacked out momentarily in sheer bliss, releasing a flurry of curses in between moaning Dutch’s name as he spilled hot and fast all over Dutch’s thigh. In the aftermath, Arthur laid there limply as he groaned, breathing hard and staring at the moonlit grass below. Dutch was chuckling in satisfaction as he lightly patted his backside before tugging Arthur’s pants back up.

“Come on, let’s get you up. We’ve got fishing to do.”

Scrambling to his feet, Arthur pulled his suspenders back over his arms, and swiftly buckled his pants. Dutch reached low to recover their fishing equipment, still seated as he handed them to Arthur.

“That was… fun,” Dutch said candidly as he looked up at him, shaking out his hand as if he’d strained himself. “Misbehave more often and we’ll go on more fishing trips.”

“Sure,” was all that Arthur could manage, remarkably flustered as he watched Dutch pull out his bandana and wipe Arthur’s come from his pant-leg.

More fishing trips in their future, indeed.


	2. Lesson Learned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur temps fate, causing Dutch to give him a punishment he won't soon forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by in game dialogue of a scene captured by tenderlydestroyed! Their lovely post: https://tenderlydestroyed.tumblr.com/post/190628809180/yes-dutch-i-think-arthur-wants-you-to-teach-him
> 
> My original post: https://lady-of-rohan.tumblr.com/post/190911854714/a-lesson-you-wont-forget

Arthur was in a damned good mood. Maybe even a mischievous mood. The air was rife with the joys of spring, the weather warm and comfortable, and with the changing weather also brought…

…well, thoughts of the birds and the bees. Or perhaps in this case, it was the bees and the bees. Arthur didn’t rightly know, but with Dutch so awfully busy all the time, he was growing impatient. There was only so much he could do, alone in his tent at night.

He’d started his morning by ambling ‘accidentally’ into Dutch’s living quarters, touching all his books, petting the pronghorn hide that kept his bed warm, and generally taking up space. Dutch came rushing over like a raging bull, shoving Arthur out of his tent and rambling about privacy, and making Arthur promise he’d respect his personal belongings. Arthur chuckled, but promised. For now.

Dutch was a strange man, kind of like a finicky cat. Sometimes, he was all for attention, wanting to be touched and loved and adored. Other times, when he was locked up in his own head, he was hissing and biting and demanding privacy. It all came down to, Dutch got what Dutch wanted, when he wanted it. Which wasn’t all together productive when Arthur was feeling needy.

He knew he was crossing a line when Dutch was carrying a bucket of water over to his tent, likely to wash up, and Arthur forcefully shouldered into him. The water went everywhere, splashing all over the bottom of Dutch’s pants, as well as his favorite leather shoes. When the outlaw attempted an apology, though he was smirking, Dutch was prompt to cut him off with vitriol.

“Do you need me to teach you a lesson you won’t forget?!”

“Sorry, Dutch, dunno what’s gotten into me today–”

When Dutch grabbed his elbow, forcefully enough that his nails were digging into his skin, Arthur knew he’d overstepped massively. His cheeky grin disappeared, Dutch’s grip only tightening. He probably looked like he’d seen a ghost in that moment, the color draining from his face, and as he attempted to pull away, Dutch had him kept.

“Since you’re so insistent on being a child, I’m going to have to treat you like one.”

He said that loudly enough for the vast majority of the camp to hear. Lenny was passing by, nearly walking right into a tree at the awkward display. Molly looked up from brushing her hair, looking a little redder in the face than usual. In the distance, he heard Karen cackling.

Short of grabbing him by the earlobe, Arthur was dragged off by Dutch, but not before the older man had asked Molly for her favored hairbrush, which she’d given up almost breathlessly.

And so, Arthur Morgan was led off site and down the lake’s edge, to a secluded area on the shore. Far enough away to be away from prying eyes, but certainly not enough distance for sound to not carry.

Dutch rolled up his pinstriped sleeves, and situated himself on a piece of driftwood. He looked up at Arthur, gesturing with his hands.

“Take down your pants, boy.”

Arthur was speechless, suddenly incredibly embarrassed now that they were here. He’d wanted him, of course, but hadn’t expected retribution to be so swift.

The big, tough cowboy found himself fumbling for words as Dutch’s dark gaze was fixed on him. He felt two feet tall.

“Listen, Dutch, I was just jokin’ around–”

“That’s bullshit if I ever heard it, _son_.”

Before he knew it, Dutch had taken care of it for him, reaching up for his suspenders to slide them from his muscled shoulders, and popping the button off his trousers before forcefully yanking them down his legs. Arthur stood there, humiliated, and already half-hard, his dick mere inches from Dutch’s face where he sat.

Dutch sighed, and tugged him so that Arthur sprawled awkwardly over his lap. His ass went ass up as Dutch bent a knee, propping him. He could feel one hand bracing him firmly at the small of his back, followed shortly by Dutch’s broad palm connecting with his naked ass. Arthur gasped. Dutch spanked him again, this time a little lower, close to where his upper thigh met his cheek. He made an obscene noise, fingers digging into the dampened sand to brace himself.

It was clear that Dutch heard him, his big hand gripping his ass hungrily, fingertips pressing.

“Oh, I’m sorry Arthur, was that too hard?”

His voice mocked him. Arthur dared to defy him, keeping his nose to the ground.

“Ain’t hard enough.”

“Is that so, now?”

There was no buildup, no warning. Just hard, angry smacks as Dutch whipped him like a disobedient child. They were a ways down the lakeside, but there was no way the sound wasn’t reverberating back to camp. Arthur’s thoughts couldn’t help but wonder how he was going to explain this… wondered how much he’d be mocked by the others for being punished by their gang’s leaders. There were already rumors, of course, but this certainly added fuel to the fire. His face flushed just thinking about it, stomach fluttering with preemptive embarrassment.

Speaking of fire, and Arthur’s ass was feeling it. Dutch smacked him until his ass felt alight, heat emanating from his bare skin. There was lightning in Dutch’s swing, like Zeus himself, and Arthur was a mere mortal, subjected to his fury.

“Tell me, Arthur,” Dutch began conversationally, words accented by sharp slaps as Arthur grunted. “What possessed you to antagonize me?”

His breath caught tight in his chest, hitching through that sweet painful ecstasy. “I– I dunno, Dutch… seemed like a good ide’ a’ the time–”

“And now?”

“You know me, I’m not one to live with regret–”

“We’ll see about that.”

He had no idea how long they went at it, gasping and groaning as sand encrusted beneath his nails and his boots slipped on the shore each time he jolted from pain. Of course, his situation beneath the belt hadn’t lessened… hell, he couldn’t understand it himself, but pain did it for him.

When Dutch finally eased up, Arthur was ready to right himself, when Dutch grabbed a fistful of his hair and shoved him back down. This time, when Dutch hit him, Arthur actually cried out. He knew instantly that it was no longer the malleable texture of Dutch’s fleshy palm. No, it was harder, more intense… deeper and far more stinging.

Molly’s goddamned brush.

What was that, ivory?! Whatever it was, it hurt like a goddamned son-of-a-bitch. Dutch hauled back and hit him again with the object, and Arthur swore he could already feel a bruise forming, his vision seeing stars.

 _“Dutch!”_ Arthur actually struggled, a leg kicking, sending sand flying. _“Godammit!”_

“Have you learned your lesson yet, boy?”

Another hit that filled his eyes with starlight, hips grinding against Dutch’s leg.

“JESUS, Dutch!”

“Apologize. _Now_.”

Another whip of the brush. Then another. Arthur’s words were blurted, not sure if he was going to shed tears or cum right then and there.

“I’m sorry, Dutch!”  
  
“I’m not sure I heard right, over your whimpering.”

He dared to hit him yet again, and Arthur swore he stopped existing entirely.  
  
“I mean it, Dutch, I’m sorry!”

A man of his word, Dutch ceased. Gripped Arthur’s raw backside in his palm, and then rubbed soothingly, occasionally teasing him with his finger, as he was quite clearly, rather spread. It took some time for Arthur’s heart to settle back down, breaths low and shallow. Regrettably, he was still entirely aroused. Dutch, of course, seemed to notice his stiffness against his leg, and ordered him to get up again.

Arthur wiped his face with his dirty hands, more to cover up how red he’d gone. Now that he was standing, the muscles in his ass strained, like he’d run 30 miles. God, he was sure he’d be feeling that for a week. He resisted the urge to reach back and rub himself, not wanting to look like an idiot in front of the older man.

Pants still around his knees, Arthur stood there as Dutch righted himself and dragged him off again, up the grassy hill towards a nearby tree.

“Lean there,” Dutch ordered, and Arthur hesitantly looked over his shoulder, wondering if he was actually done with him. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure how much more he could take. Still, he bent over obediently, palms against the rough tree bark as he held onto mother nature.

But instead of whipping him, he heard the heavy leather of Dutch’s double-holsters drop, his belt hitting the ground, and soon he felt the teasing warmth of Dutch’s thick cock between his heated cheeks. So, he’d enjoyed himself, too…

He didn’t dip inside, just poked with his tip, and rubbed with his shaft, arousal dripping over pink skin, as his dick sandwiched itself comfortably between the warmth of Arthur’s ass.

“You wanted it,” Dutch said, all anger dissipated, replaced by sheer lust. “Touch yourself.”

One hand gripping the tree, his other moved low to wrap around his throbbing manhood, an obscene moan escaping his parted lips.

“There’s no use hiding it, Arthur. Now, enjoy yourself. I want to hear you scream like the filthy thing you are.”

Meanwhile, Dutch bucked his hips as he gripped Arthur’s waist, sliding and teasing as Arthur clenched, using the friction of his firm buttocks for his own release. Even feeling Dutch’s firmness nestled there, a welcome comfort against his burning and bruised rear. 

Unsurprisingly, Arthur came first… having been rather pent up, and Dutch followed suit. Arthur didn’t remember much, just a blinding hot pleasure-pain, forehead pressing against the tree as he yelled out Dutch’s name. Dutch, himself, had made a hot, sticky mess all over Arthur’s ass.

Dutch held him a few moments, allowing himself to lean his chin against Arthur’s broad shoulder.

"Let’s clean up this mess,” he said lowly, “but before we go, Arthur… will you forget this?”

The older man’s prior words came back to haunt him, but this time around, Arthur smiled.

“Not 'til the end of my days.”

Dutch chuckled, nibbling on his ear before moving to tug his own pants back up.

_“Good.”_


End file.
